I like it, replies the bulky yearling, her mental voice harsh as she dares Ker to suggest that they move elsewhere. She has already made up her mind that this is where they're going to live, and the domineering mountains all around her only solidify her faith in her decision. The place is beautiful, crystalline-white and crisp, and the witch's breath creates a fog of mist in the early morning air as she trots at a brisk pace towards what she assumes is the herd's border. She'd hated the Edge's searing temperatures, suffering with slathered sweat across her grey fur in the warmer summer months, and had found that the heat exacerbated her heart condition. The Basin's chill air is a welcome relief, even if her body isn't used to it and shivers accordingly. She'd been born in the snow of the Steppe in the depths of winter, after all - the ice and frost are part of her.

"But it's cooooooold," Ker continues to wail, unfurling herself for long enough to glare around before cuddling back into her feathers again. Oizys studiously ignores her eagle's protests and the ":( :( :(" faces being sent into her mind. This is a fresh start for the gargoyle, a new leaf turned over in the frosty breeze. In the Edge, she'd been embroiled in a lie of her dam's making; Oizys the foundling, Oizys the orphan fortunate enough to be taken in by the altruistic Nyx, Oizys the brat, Oizys the mother killer. Here, she has a clean slate. Here, she can be Oizys, daughter of the Basilisk and the Ironheart. Oizys, stone-faced demon, warrior, queen. Here, nobody knows what she's done. Here, she can rise to glory unburdened by the events of the past.

In the distance, she sees a horselike figure. Assuming it is one of the herd's members come to investigate her arrival, she prowls closer with ears rammed forwards in an attempt at friendliness and grey eyes wide with curiosity, feeling a hint of anxiety at being so far out of her comfort zone. It will be good for her, though - she'd become too settled in the Edge, too convinced of her own greatness even though she knows she's got a long way to go. "Hello?" she addresses the stranger, moving ever closer. That's when she realises that it's not a horse, in fact, but a great metal sentinel; she pins her ears and shies sideways before berating herself for her weakness and standing her ground. "The hell is that?" Ker erupts from her shoulders and launches towards the sentinel, her coldness forgotten as she circles it warily and gives Oizys a mental image of it. It's huge, terrifying, and decidedly metal; the giant yearling decides not to advance any further and risk angering it, so she stands where she is and beckons Ker back to her. Lifting her tri-horned head, the gargoyle unleashes a low whinny to announce her presence and make the herd aware of the potential new member on their borders, her weak heart hammering in her chest.